


He Said, She Said

by loftyperch



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Genderswap, Het and Slash, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 15,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loftyperch/pseuds/loftyperch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Steve's the girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, I'm on a fanfiction bender. At least I acknowledge that I have a problem.
> 
> I tried to treat the subject matter with dignity and a grain of salt at the same time.
> 
> I own none of the characters depicted herein and will not profit from their use.

Steve struggled futilely for breath, all his strength useless against the sharp press of Loki's staff on his throat. His shield lay tauntingly mere inches beyond his fingertips while the demigod cackled as if he had already won the battle.

Steve's vision began to go black even as bolts of lightning streaked around the abandoned warehouse. He just had to hold on for a few more minutes while Iron Man led a disoriented Hulk back in the right direction. Just a little longer.

"I hope you're enjoying this, Captain," hissed Loki, leaning even more of his weight on the staff. "Because your friends are about to enjoy it even more."

But that was all Steve heard before he passed out.

\----------------------

He awoke in the helicarrier's infirmary with a vague notion of having been carried there, above the city at top speed, by Iron Man.

He was surprised to find Natasha sitting by his bedside - it was typically Tony or Coulson who waited up while he was injured - wearing an expression even deadlier serious than usual.

"Steve," she began steadily, "you're a woman."

Steve just raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out if she was making a bad joke or an even worse metaphor. Settling nervously on 'joking' he giggled.

Oh god. 

He just giggled. 

She meant it literally.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, he leapt off the bed and ripped open the closet to look in the full length mirror.

No less than three SHIELD agents burst through the door, guns drawn, in response to Steve's high pitched shriek.

Natasha herded them back out, returning to grab Steve by the shoulders and give him - her - a shake.

"Chill out, Cap. Loki's retreated, you're not badly hurt, and the serum's still working for you. You just look a little different, that's all."

" _A little different_?" Steve broke from her grasp to gesture at the breasts filling out his hospital johnny, at the long blond hair spilling over his shoulders, at the hourglass curve of his hips.

Then he burst into tears.

"Oh God, I'm crying!" he wailed, letting Natasha pull him into a loose embrace.

"Yup. Definitely a woman."

\------------------------

Between Natasha, Maria and Jane, they were able to cobble together a hasty outfit to discreetly remove Steve from the helicarrier, commandeering a copter back to Stark Tower. Blessedly, none of the guys were lounging around in the common area to stare and point and snicker.

"You get some rest. I'm gonna go talk to Tony and then we'll take you shopping, okay?" Tasha lingered in the doorway when they reached his room, concern in her eyes.

"Shopping?"

"Yeah. There's no telling how long this will last. You may as well look good for the duration. Don't worry, Cap, it'll be fun."

Unconsoled, he sat alone on the edge of his bed. The part of him that still remained rational suggested it would be a good idea to get acquainted with his new body, take it for a spin around the gym to make sure he was still capable of defending himself. But the rest of him never wanted to leave this dark room again, didn't want _anyone_ to see him like this. They'd laugh even harder than they would if they saw him all scrawny again. Natasha hadn't laughed, nor Maria or Jane ... but they weren't the raucous Thor, the irreverent Clint or the acid-tongued Tony.

Steve didn't think he could stand it if Tony made fun of him. Just imagining it made him want to cry again, but he bit his lip and kept it together.

Everything just _felt_ more than it had before. Were emotions always this intense for women or was he just unused to this new cocktail of hormones?

"Captain, your presence is requested in the lab," JARVIS informed him after a few moments of uninterrupted wallowing.

"Can't Tasha just come back up here?"

"I'm afraid not."

Steve sighed. In his ill-fitting shirt and too-long jeans, checking the corridor carefully before he ventured beyond his threshhold, he padded down to the elevator.

Steeling himself, he peeked around the corner into the lab to see Bruce and Natasha standing in hushed conversation.

" ... I'm very optimistic, actually. Oh, hey, Steve, come on in." Bruce waved him through the door, already pulling up a few floating screens and taking a small white case from the nearest workbench. "I think we can get you back to your old self ... if you're willing to be a bit of a Guinea pig."

"That's what I do best." Steve raised his eyes to Bruce's, glad to find no hint of amusement there. He should have expected as much - this _was_ a new science project after all.

Bruce held a screen out to show Steve a set of what looked like glowing blue Rorschach tests.

"These are the sex chromosomes - DNA. The complete one is called XX, and it makes a human female. The mismatched one is called XY and it makes a human male. It's pretty clear that all Loki did was add some genetic material to every Y in your body. All we have to do is chop it off again."

"How will you know where to ... chop it? And how will you do the chopping?"

"That's the tricky part," Bruce mused as he pulled a long Q-tip from the case. "We've got a good headstart on the nanotechnology to do the cutting - I'm guessing Stark Industries is only a year or two away on that, and if all else fails I can work on a virus to do the same job - and we've got plenty of samples of your old DNA for a reference point. We're gonna have to run trials with different restriction enzymes, and we'll need a new genetic sample to try them on. I can't make any guarantees, but as I was telling Agent Romanov, I have very high hopes."

"A year or two?" Steve's heart sank.

"Maybe less; Tony's on the phone right now making nanotech the company's top priority, or at least asking Pepper to. Now I'll just take a cheek swab, and you guys can be on your way. Open up." 

When he was finished getting his sample, Bruce fished a matte black credit card out of his khakis. 

"And here, take this. Tony says to spare no expense, although I think he figured your personal shoppers would have more fun with it than you would."

"That's really not necessary ..."

"Oh, yes it is," Natasha interrupted, snatching the card and practically dragging Steve out of the lab. "I need a few things, too, now that I think about it."

\--------------------

Shopping with women was a new experience for Steve, although he was assured that this kind of thing - a whole workable wardrobe in a single evening with unlimited funds - was a new experience for Natasha, Maria and Jane too. And judging by the expressions on the sales associates' faces, it was a new experience for the Bergdorf's staff as well.

But they were all - Steve included - resourceful, intelligent, active women. They entered the store with a plan and - Steve excluded - a can-do attitude.

The ordeal passed in a three-hour blur of bras, panties, socks, stockings, nighties, four pairs of shoes, athletic gear, a swimsuit, designer jeans, shirts, skirts, slacks, a jacket, and a full length evening gown in navy satin and gauze. At different points Maria and Jane broke off to find him jewelry and make up, returning with arms full of bags, Happy dutifully in tow with yet more bags.

And despite the utter exhaustion, and the all too familiar body consciuosness that came with trying on styles and sizes that just looked horrible on him, Steve really enjoyed it. The girls were all pleasant to be around, giving him pointers and encouragement at every turn, never laughing at his woeful ignorance of current fashion trends. And he had to admit he looked damn good in everything he'd picked out.

He went to bed feeling much better than he had in a long, long time, even if he _was_ wearing a silky pink negligee.

\--------------------

Things weren't so rosy when Steve woke up though. He had to go through the whole realizing he was a woman thing again, which sucked. Then he had to face up to the fact that he would almost certainly interact with his teammates that day.

"Captain, Agent Romanov is requesting your presence in the gym."

"Thanks, JARVIS." At least that meant he didn't have to wonder what to wear.

"Of course, sir. May I have your permission to take your new measurements so that Mr. Stark can begin fabricating more suitable body armor for you?"

"Oh, sure." Steve stood at attention as a net of blue light passed over him, held out his arms and his feet in turn, lifted his hair to expose the back of his neck. "All set?"

"Indeed, sir. Have a good day."

"Oh, and tell Tony I said thank you for the clothes, that was very sweet of him."

"I will, sir."

\----------------------

Steve almost pulled a 180 when he reached the gym and found Clint inside already sparring with Natasha. He still didn't feel ready to be seen by any more Avengers than absolutely necessary. But it was too late to beat a hasty retreat. The sharp-eyed archer had already spotted him and thrown him a friendly wave and a surprisingly normal smile while Tasha flung him to the mat in his moment of distraction.

"Hey Steve, how you feelin'?" he asked as he picked himself up and brushed himself off.

"Fine. Physically anyway." Steve shrugged, glancing down at himself, still strong and solidly built beneath his new yoga pants and baby blue Underarmor tank.

"Then let's get to work."

They put him through his paces, Tasha showing him some of her sneakiest moves and Clint explaining some of his sneakiest countermoves. They worked him until he had at least a cursory understanding of just how much more flexible he was and, handily enough, how much more of him his shield would now protect. Clint was even gracious enough to let them practice Natasha's favorite upside-down-thigh-strangle-throw technique on him.

But eventually hunger drove them all upstairs in search of breakfast.

Steve hesitated just outside the kitchen door until Clint checked to make sure there was no one already inside.

"You know, you're gonna have to see everyone eventually. You may as well get it over with," Natasha suggested sensibly as she fired up the coffeemaker.

"Who's left anyway? Just Thor and Tony?" asked Clint, pulling eggs and ham and cheese from the fridge. "How would you like your protein this morning, ladies? Omelets? Sandwiches? A frittata perhaps?"

"Sandwiches. There are bagels around here somewhere. And yeah, I think Thor and Tony are the only ones left."

"They'll laugh at me." Steve seated himself sullenly at the island, resting his cheek on the cool marble and heaving a great sigh.

"So?" Clint shrugged. "And believe me, I had the perfect joke locked and loaded when you said you were fine physically, but I kept a lid on it. I bet they will too."

Steve couldn't really argue - they were his friends after all - so he just rested his eyes while the coffee dripped and the eggs fried.

Natasha chatted softly about the things they still had to buy for Steve, like a real brush and some barrettes - his hair was a single massive tangle after their rigorous workout - a more appropriate razor - he was looking rather European at the moment - and certain other personal hygiene products he'd most likely need at some point over the course of the next four weeks. She managed to discuss it so matter-of-factly that he wasn't even embarrassed to hear the word 'tampon' spoken in front of Clint.

"And you're in for quite a treat tonight, Steve," she added with a rare twinkle in her eye.

"A treat?"

"It's girls night. And we're taking you clubbing."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve cries. Natasha provides some perspective.

Steve was feeling almost normal once he had showered, shaved, wrestled with the blow-dryer and dressed himself in a pleated skirt and crisp white blouse. He only got an overwhelming sense of something wrong when he chanced to glance in a mirror and caught himself wondering who that pretty lady was.

He briefly considered experimenting with the pile of cosmetics strewn across his bathroom countertop, but after everything that had already happened in the past thiry-three hours eyeshadow and lipstick would just be too much.

"Captain? Mr. Stark has finished your new armor if you wish to go try it on."

"That was quick." Steve had hoped to delay this moment a while longer, but the time had obviously come. He could need that armor at any moment, and Natasha had been right; he _should_ just take it like a man ... so to speak. He threw on a pair of black heels which Jane assured him would go with anything - easily the least comfortable shoes he had ever worn - and stood as tall as he could manage. He wasn't sure what he would do or say if Tony made a snide comment, but he'd try to keep his cool and maintain some level of dignity.

A short, jittery elevator trip later he found himself once more at the entrance to the lab. Inside, a dozen or so dull gray pieces of carbon polymer body armor were neatly laid out on a workbench for him, Tony and Bruce whispering to each other beside it. The nearly guilty look Bruce gave him when he entered stopped him dead in his tracks. 

_Oh no._

"Steve ... we've got some bad news." Bruce sounded like he'd been up all night, his voice as rough as his cheeks, eyes heavy and sympathetic. 

Tony said nothing, just stared at the floor with hair just as disheveled and shoulders just as slumped as his lab partner's.

Steve wasn't sure which worried him more, Bruce's words or Tony's complete refusal to even glance in his direction. Either way his heart was beating a panicked pace.

"Your DNA hasn't changed," Bruce continued, wringing his hands. "The first time I ran it I thought I'd made a mistake, grabbed the wrong sample or something ... But I hadn't. Three times now it's been a perfect match to your old samples. Even with the right technology there's nothing for us change. You're phenotypically female, yet you remain genotypically male. I'm so sorry I got your hopes up."

"That's okay, Doc." _Here come the tears again._ "I'm ... just gonna go lay down for a while." _Keep it together._

The next thing he knew he was back in bed, clutching a tearstained pillow. He stayed there for hours, shadows shifting across the floor as the day passed him by. He was stuck. Stuck in the bed and stuck in this new body. He told himself it could be worse, that he could be dead or in pain or in mourning. But telling himself didn't help.

When the clock read 5:23 his phone chirped from the bedside table. A text from Tony.

 **forgot to try on ur armor** it read.

 **I'm sure it's fine** he typed back, too weary to use more than a single finger.

**we'll keep trying**

_You couldn't even look at me_ he thought as he tossed the phone away across the covers. He'd been so worried about being laughed at, he hadn't even considered that his friends might react with disgust.

Laughter would have hurt less.

\------------

Steve didn't realize he'd dozed off until he was woken by a soft hand stroking his hair.

"You okay?" asked Natasha when she saw his eyes flutter open.

"No."

"Bruce told me."

"Why am I crying so much? Will it always be like this?"

"It won't." She smiled and helped Steve to sit up. "Your life has just changed dramatically, traumatically even, of course you're going to be stressed out and weepy. You're a sensitive guy, Steve. That means you're also a senstive woman. Just wait, though. Soon enough you'll be kicking some ass and you'll feel like yourself again."

Steve sniffed. Easy for her to say.

"Being a woman may not be a blessing, but it's not a curse either. You're a beautiful white woman in a blue state in the first world, you're allowed to have fun, have a career, control your reproduction and vote. It _will_ be different in many ways, people _will_ treat you differently, but some basic things _will_ stay the same. Now grab some of those bags, we're going to get your mind off your transition troubles for the night."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girl's night begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it's not too boring :)

Pepper's bedroom was spacious and well lit, furnished with the same style and precision for which the CEO was famous, all clean lines and muted tones. It would have been relaxing if not for the five women sprawled about in brilliant colors and glittering jewelry, laughing and clinking their wineglasses to some old school Madonna.

A high pitched cry of greeting went up when Steve and Natasha shouldered their way in, weighed down with more than half the purchases they'd made the night before. Maria, Jane and Darcy leapt up to relieve them of some bags while Pepper poured two more glasses and Betty turned the music down.

"Wow, this is freaky," said Darcy with a smile, looking Steve up and down appreciatively. "I like it."

"How are you feeling, Steve?" asked Betty, patient and polite as always.

"As well as can be expected."

"Are you looking forward to going out?"

"Uh ..." Steve didn't have a good answer for her, and Darcy and Jane were already holding items of clothing up to him and giving off-the-cuff analyses. Maria threw him an understanding look, but she wasn't really helping by plugging in a curling iron and neatly arranging lipsticks, powders and pencils on the vanity.

And much like his recent shopping excursion, the next hour whirled by in a blur. He was promptly seated, and the ladies set to work; Jane mercilessly tweezing his brows, Darcy attacking his face with various brushes (he flat out refused eyeliner once its application was demonstrated), Natasha filing and painting his nails a glossy blue (to match the scrap-of-cloth-generously-called-a-shirt they'd picked out for him), Maria stuffing his new purse with sundries and a fake ID (his name was now Lydia Burns if anyone asked), Betty keeping everyone's glasses full, and Pepper getting too close for comfort with that hot metal cylinder.

He had always appreciated the care Peggy had taken with her appearance, even on the front lines, but only now did he comprehend the work that must have gone into it.

And the things they talked about! Politics, movies, music, boyfriends, sex, the meaning of life itself. These women had way more to teach him about the modern world than an out-of-touch one percenter, an alien Viking or a reclusive Dr. Jekyll ever would.

They plied him with surprisingly intelligent and non-judgemental questions about what he was going through, what he was afraid of and what he would miss. The interest they took and the framing of his answers helped a lot, he found.

But then the subject turned to Tony.

"Have you talked to him yet?" Pepper asked.

Steve squirmed a little, suddenly reminded that his closest friend - or so he'd thought - couldn't stand the sight of him like this, couldn't even muster a comforting handshake or a word of encouragement.

"Not really, no."

Everyone but Natasha tittered.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," said Pepper, unconvincingly. "You're done, Steve. Now go put on your clothes. I'll have Happy come around front for us."

In addition to the backless shirt, the girls had chosen some dangerously low slung skinny jeans and a pair of red stilettos which gave new meaning to the word 'discomfort.' And yet, looking in the mirror, six approving smiles reflected back at him, he felt beautiful and confident. Like he could take on the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girls night continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chaps now, but this story has gotten such a positive response that I'm trying to keep it coming at a rapid pace.
> 
> Action to come.

Darcy declared the club to be 'bumpin' when they arrived, though Steve just thought it was loud. They stumbled in, shivering, from the windy November sidewalk and found a table up on the balcony where they could chat at the top of their lungs and safely stash overpriced drinks when they broke off in pairs and trios to go dance.

Steve gave dancing the old college try with mixed results, wobbling to the beat on his heels, bumping hips with Natasha and shuffling away when a drunken stranger tried to grind on him.

He kept pace with the ladies though he gasped at the cost of cocktails (and gasped again when Tasha just grinned and whipped out Tony's credit card) and was just getting a mild buzz when the rest of them were hitting the bad judgement phase. Even Pepper, who he'd only ever seen in a state of poise and power was gulping dirty martinis, gobbling olives and slurredly telling anyone who'd listen what a great boyfriend Happy was and that she was thinking of proposing - how avant garde.

Since he wasn't too into the dancing part, and because his shoes discouraged standing around at the bar like Natasha in her fashionable ballet flats (traitor), Steve found himself listening to the "Happy's a million times better than Tony" speech several times. And, still not sure how to behave around his new circle of friends, he kept his opinions to himself.

He understood where she was coming from. She and Happy had spent the better part of their adult lives working closely together to protect Tony from the world and from himself. They were both sedate, understated, attractive and kind, a good match. Happy was safe and reliable and didn't make a habit of nearly dying everytime he tried to redeem himself in battle. But Happy wasn't a flawed genius or stunningly good looking or even terribly funny. If Steve had been in Pepper's shoes, he would have made a different decision. 

_And now I_ could _be in her shoes._

The thought came suddenly and unbidden from the depths of his brain, scary and exciting and above all confusing. And he felt the urge to talk about it, which was even _more_ confusing.

He wasn't crazy or drunk enough to talk about it with Pepper though. He tottered away as discreetly as he could, leaving Pepper to trade relationship war stories with Betty (who probably had no sympathy whatsoever).

"What is it?" asked Natasha, expertly reading his scowl as he joined her and Darcy at the bar.

"Tony." He'd meant to open with 'something's been bugging me all day,' but there was no room for normal conversation over the pounding rhythm of Lady Gaga.

"Hop up," Darcy shoved over to let Steve squeeze onto her stool with her. From either side the ladies leaned in with looks of sober concern ... well, concern anyway.

"He wouldn't even look at me today. Didn't say a word."

After a momentary befuddlement crossed their faces, Natasha sat up with an I'll-clear-this-up nod.

"Don't call him!" Steve cried when she whipped out her phone, but she shushed him with a raised finger.

"Tony, what the hell?" she demanded without so much as a hello. "Yes, I'm drunk. What did you do to make Steve so miserable?" A short pause. "No, someone just mentioned you and he got those big puppy dog eyes." A longer pause. "Well duh. Don't be so fucking selfish all the time, this isn't about you ..." she trailed off, eyes going wide when she glanced at the club's front entrance. 

A strange stillness settled over the crowd and a deep boom that had nothing to do with the thumping bassline shook the building and violently rattled the solid wall of liquor bottles behind the bar.

Steve and Darcy turned in the stool, following Tasha's gaze across the dancefloor to where the double doors had splintered open and bricks dangled from a rend in the wall.

"Tony, get down here, now! It's the Wrecking Crew."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girls night ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so everything I know about the Wrecking Crew I learned from Wikipedia and Earth's Mightiest Heroes, so I apologize in advance for any deviations from canon. They're unintentional I assure you. I understand the whole Crew is supposed to be basically bulletproof, but for my purposes I'm assuming that their squishy parts are still relatively squishy.
> 
> I'm not aware of any precedence for someone picking up and using Wrecker's crowbar, but I like the idea so I'm running with it.

_Anyone but them_ moaned Steve silently, all thoughts of Tony dissolving away in the face of danger. _Anyone._

Beside him at the bar Natasha frowned, mutely trading her cosmopolitan for the bartender's knife, abandoned mid-lime as the girl ran for cover.

Only three Crewmembers had come inside, Piledriver no doubt guarding the emergency exit from without just as Bulldozer guarded the main entrance from within. The Wrecker and Thunderball plowed through the panicked throng, making straight for the back wall.

"Nobody move!" The Wrecker bellowed, though he was shoving people if they didn't make way for him. "And shut that shit off!"

The music fell silent, the only sound the faint echo of gasps and squeals as the grotesquely huge villains snarled and feinted at anyone who looked at them wrong. 

"Darcy, what have you got?" Steve whispered. He glanced up and caught Maria's eye before she melted into the shadows. He knew without having to ask that she'd find a way out to reclaim the emergency exit or at least get backup.

"Here!" Darcy tossed him a full can of mace from her purse. It was a poor substitute for his shield, but it would have to do.

"Clear the bar!" The Wrecker roared, and everyone but Steve and Natasha scrambled over each other to comply, Darcy darting into the crowd to gather the others.

"You can sit this one out if you want, Cap," Natasha offered.

"No I can't." 

Despite having become a woman, Steve was still man enough to admit to himself he was scared. He was scared for Natasha and his friends and the hundred-odd innocent bystanders clogging up the space he needed to fight. Even if he hadn't lost a hundred pounds overnight he'd still be scared. He'd seen the Crew stay on their feet after taking full-force body blows from Mjolnir, and he wouldn't put it past them to bring down the whole building in their wrath.

He'd have to fight dirty to even stand a chance at survival.

He toed off his heels.

"Well, well, well," drawled the Wrecker as he reached the bar, palming his enchanted crowbar and leering. "Looks like we got us a couple dumb bitches who wanna die tonight."

"Worst. Pickup line. Ever," quipped Natasha as she flicked her wrist. 

The knife lodged deep in the Wrecker's right eye. It didn't kill him, but it shocked him into dropping his crowbar, shrieking and crumpling to his knees.

Steve bent to scoop the iron rod up and lunge beneath one of Thunderball's fists. He swung it around in a wide arc, its claw catching in his opponent's upper arm, tearing through fabric and flesh. He felt the whoosh of Thunderball's wrecking ball as he leaned back to avoid it. Recovering, he spritzed the wound he'd just opened with mace and tumbled over to Wrecker who had managed to catch Natasha's leg in a furious blind grab. Tasha reached above her head and grabbed a bar stool, smashing it on the Wrecker's arm, but that just made him twist harder.

Rolling into a crouch on the Wrecker's blind side, Steve mercilessly maced his mangled eye. He released Tasha's leg with a bloodcurlding scream.

Behind them Bulldozer was laughing so hard he was literally slapping his knee.

Steve tossed Natasha the mace as they stood, and even drunk, she caught it deftly, one handed.

Thunderball hadn't been idle while the 'bitches' were otherwise occupied. He'd smashed the bar to splinters and now swung his ridiculously huge - overcompensatory? - weapon against the rear wall of the club, the shockwave of the hit shattering every bottle from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, sloshing a treacherous sea of booze and broken glass between himself and the two lone Avengers.

Steve didn't even hesitate, sprinting - almost slipping on a soup of alcohol and his own blood - crowbar cocked like a Louisville slugger, toward Thunderball as he tried to dislodge his ball from the mess of rubble it had just made.

Aware of no pain, only a cold wetness and the slide of foreign objects in his flesh, Steve swung hard for the side of Thunderball's knee, dropping him close enough to bring the crowbar up and back to his nose, then to whip it around and catch his ear, claw first.

Then from out of nowhere Natasha moved in on the other side, another knife and a steady stream of mace at the ready. They left him whimpering and clutching his knee, turning to face the last remaining Crewmember.

Bulldozer wasn't laughing anymore. He was charging.

Steve began to feel the pain as he sidestepped and bent to sweep Bulldozer's leg with the crowbar. The massive man hit the ground hard, but only growled louder as he pushed himself to his feet, embarrassed and enraged, forearms bloody and dotted with glass.

He charged again, but again Steve was ready, bracing himself until the last possible second. He took aim and drove the crowbar, flat end first, directly into Bulldozer's eyeslit. The maneuver took too many last possible seconds though, and the next thing Steve knew he was lying on his side, head throbbing and body cold where booze had soaked his clothing. Confused, tensed for another punch or a kick to the gut, he heard the crash of thunder and the buzz of familiar chatter, though that might have just been the echoes of Bulldozer's fist at his temple.

Forgetting for a moment where he was, he tried to get up, slicing a fresh gash into his palm.

"Tasha!" he cried, but he couldn't hear himself over the shouting voices and wild, senseless cheering all around him, couldn't see for flashes of red and gold and glowing blue, couldn't make sense of up or down as he was lifted by strong metal arms.

Somewhere far away Iron Man was invoking the deity he didn't believe in, talking about glass and blood and could Steve hear him?

And all the adrenaline began to wash away, the fatigue setting in, his hands weakly scrabbling for purchase on smooth armor, head pulsing with a fuzzy dullness on every heartbeat and with blinding pain inbetween. He might have been crying, or there might have been blood trickling down his face in fat, cold dollops. He couldn't tell. All he could tell was that girls night was over, ending in destruction, injury and having to be rescued by his male teammates.

"Tasha!" he cried again, gripped with all the fear he'd pushed aside earlier. "Maria!"

"They're fine," Clint's voice assured him. A hand smoothed his hair back from his forehead and a light shined bright in his eyes.

"Take me home," he begged. Someone nearby argued for the hospital, but Steve had had enough of waking up in strange, blank places. "Home," he insisted. "Please."

"You got it, Die Hard," Iron Man answered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's message becomes mixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration is hard to come by, so when it [strikes](https://i.chzbgr.com/maxW500/6923200512/hAE4906D2/) I take it ... even if I personally believe Cap takes his job a little too seriously to intentionally wear a belly shirt into battle.

Tony had only lied a little when he said he would take Steve home, bringing him instead to the closest ER for x-rays and stitches, leaving him with promises of a swift return and profound apologies for having to leave at all.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Tony asked, still hiding behind his iron face as he laid Steve out on a gurney to be pricked and poked and prodded by a gaggle of nurses.

"Better shoes," Steve snarled. He couldn't help but be angry - at himself, at Tony, at his feet and head for hurting so badly, at Loki whereever he had holed up to gloat and snicker. 

But the rage faded when Tony took his hand and squeezed, somehow able to be gentle and expressive through a grip capable of crumpling steel like a tissue. Steve knew deep down that he was only in a hospital because Tony cared, _really_ cared, could see it even in Iron Man's empty eyes. And without the anger, there was only pain and sadness left to feel.

 _Why?_ Steve wondered as he watched his teammate go. _If he cares so much, why couldn't he look at me today? Why?_

In the end - after about seventy stitches scattered from the soles of his feet all the way up his left side, after the bandages and the cold compress on the rapidly swelling right side of his face, after the neck brace and the painkillers which didn't help all that much - it was Thor who came to retrieve him.

"You look well, my friend, all things considered," thundered the god by way of greeting, offering his enormous fist for Steve to weakly bump. Thor had come prepared with a warm blanket and an even warmer smile, wrapping the patient up and carefully depositing him in a wheelchair.

Then, as if Steve wasn't humiliated enough already, a nurse poked her head in, noticed Thor - how could she not with that bright red bedsheet? - and remarked "you sure know a lot of superheroes, don't you, honey?"

 _I_ am _a superhero_ he wanted to shout, but he just hung his head in a fog of swirling disappointment and let Thor wheel him out to the limo.

"What the hell happened back there?" he asked, desperate more for conversation than for information

"Here, it has been on your news programs all evening. Like a record which no longer works properly." Thor pulled a StarkPad from the opposite seat and queued up a live feed after a few tries and quickly checking his Facebook. He scooted closer to Steve as Happy pulled the car out into traffic.

"... a failed bank heist, all four Crewmembers are currently in custody," said a female reporter over security footage from inside the club. The picture was grainy, but Steve could make out himself and Natasha as they stood up to the Crew, looking even smaller and more outmatched than he'd imagined at the time. "Here we see the two women who fought back and subdued the men known as The Wrecker and Thunderball. A third woman, identified only as an off-duty SHIELD agent, was able to distract the fourth Crewmember and open the emergency exit, though, as you can see from the footage, most hostages chose to stay and wait to see what would happen next."

What happened next was difficult for Steve to watch; after successfully striking Bulldozer in the eye with the crowbar, he took a single punch and dropped like a sack of potatoes. Roaring in agony, Bulldozer flung an arm and caught Natasha in the stomach, kocking her hard into the rubble. He wrenched the bar from his helmet, blood spurting out behind it, and raised it over his head to finish Steve off with a single blow.

But a blurry Iron Man shot in from off camera just in time to catch the downward strike and wrench the crowbar right out of Bulldozer's meaty hands. 

And then, something strange happened ... 

Iron Man got mad. Violently mad. Madder than Steve had ever seen him. Fists flying faster than the low quality camera was capable of capturing with any clarity he beat the living shit out of Bulldozer, forcing him backward and visibly denting his helmet. When he had the villain begging for mercy, Iron Man grabbed his head and smashed his face into an armored knee. Before Bulldozer had even hit the ground, Iron Man was crouching at Steve's side and the crowd was exploding with enthusiastic applause when both he and Natasha were able to move.

Steve got a sudden chill, head pounding and chest constricting at the sight of himself being carried off camera by the man who couldn't say 'hi' less than twenty-four hours before.

"Though both women were hurt," the reporter continued, "SHIELD Press Liaison Philip Coulson has announced that their injuries were not life threatening and that the third woman is uninjured. Let's go now to a press conference, recorded shortly after the attack, with Tony Stark, speaking on behalf of the Avengers."

The image shifted to a close up of Tony, helmet off, but otherwise still armored, with a hand raised for silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I would like to officially identify the women to whom the city owes yet another debt of gratitude as the Black Widow and Captain America."

A burble of confusion went up in the background.

"Steve Rogers is taking a medical leave of absence, and a veteran SHIELD agent known as Lydia Burns has stepped up to temporarily fill his leadership role on the team."

"Mr. Stark, do you think she'll be able to replace Captain Rogers?"

"She is every bit the hero that Cap is. You saw what she did in there without her shield, without shoes, without even knowing there was a bank vault on the other side of that wall, with only her wits and one other hero for backup. I have complete cofidence in her ability to not only lead the Avengers, but to lead us well. We haven't lost Captain Rogers, we've gained Agent Burns."

Steve reached over and shut the StarkPad off. He couldn't bear to watch any more. It was making him think and feel more than his concussion could handle. Mentally defeated, he leaned into Thor's big, brotherly shoulder and willed himself to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve begins his recovery. A bomb is dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So short it's more like the second half of chapter 6.

Steve spent the better part of the next three days in bed, receiving visitors and trying to do as little concentrating as possible, doctor's orders.

Everyone stopped in to see him, even Natasha when she was allowed to come home, her midsection a single purpled bruise. Thor ate lunch with him each day and recounted childhood stories of Loki's mischief. As it turned out the little hooligan had cast the same gender bending spell on his brother many times. Alas Thor had never learned the secret to breaking the spell - Loki had always removed it of his own volition. Happy and Pepper brought him a kitten to keep him company, and Steve couldn't help but notice a handsome platinum band shining on Happy's left ring finger.

The only one who didn't come was Tony, though gifts arrived several times a day. Expensive gifts. There were exotic flower arrangements, a designer carrying case for the kitten, an on-call masseuse, an antique furisode kimono for use as a dressing gown, imported bath products, baskets of the finest foods, a fruit bouquet, coats and jackets on the first day that snow fell, his uniform when it was complete, and more shoes, boots, slippers and sandals (all equal parts sensible and stylish) than he knew what to do with. But the most useful gift of all was Darcy, who explained that she was getting thirty grand a week to be Steve's 'round the clock personal assistant.

She was his rock throughout his bedrest, fetching and carrying, reading aloud from magazines and newspapers, screening his calls, helping him bathe (which was a little weird at first, but turned out to be a great bonding experience), and cleaning the litterbox. She was even comfortable and knowledgable enough to answer any lingering questions Steve had about female anatomy and the proper care it required.

On the fourth day his headache was completely gone and a SHIELD medic came to remove his stitches, though he was still forbidden from walking more than a step or two until the end of the week.

It was that day that Bruce popped in with a round of lattes and a large cardboard box.

"These," said Bruce as he pulled a pair of black leather high heeled boots from the box and handed them to Steve, "are a Stark Industries special. Each zipper has a little button, press them and the heel will collapse." He demonstrated, and indeed, the thick four-inch heel telescoped down to less than an inch. "They've got grippy soles, they were designed specifically for your feet so they should be comfy, and I'm taking Tony's word for it that they're fashionable."

"Well, they're plain," Darcy said with a shrug, "but they're classic so they should go with just about anything."

"What do you think, Steve?" Bruce prompted after a moment of awkward silence.

"Why didn't Tony bring them himself?" Steve liked them, really he did, but they were just one more thing he would gladly trade for a smile and a hug from his friend.

"Well Tony's been busy ... and he feels guilty."

"What? Why?"

"Because if he'd asked you out to dinner like he planned, you might not even have been there that night."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.

"Out to ... dinner?" Steve's voice hitched, head spinning as he forced his world back into balance. _A date?_ "Really?"

"Yeah, he was gonna take the whole gang out for Thai, something about team spirit."

_Oh._ The earth lurched beneath him again, leaving him even dizzier and for some reason ... really ... really ... disappointed.

"He was all set to ask, but then we had to give you the bad news and he just clammed up. And, of course if you and Tasha hadn't gone to girls night, Maria probably would have just tailed the Crew back their hideout and called in an airstrike or something. So I guess I'd feel a bit bad, too. Anyway ..."

Steve was only partially aware of the banal pleasantries that followed, engaged instead in an internal battle for control or, at the very least, some kind of understanding. Had he just been _giddy_ at the thought of Tony taking him out on a date? Had he just pictured himself giggling over drinks and sharing a dessert with _Tony_? Had his heart just broken when the rest of the Avengers interrupted the candlelit fantasy?

No.

Couldn't be.

"See you there. Bye."

"Huh? What? See me where?" Steve blustered when the closing door snapped him back to reality.

"At the charity thing on Friday," Darcy answered, unfazed by Steve's apparent blackout.

"Oh righ ... _that_." He'd completely forgotten about the impending ball, which, quite frankly, he'd been dreading for weeks before Loki had screwed his whole life up.

Great. One more thing to worry about.

"I don't think I want to go," he admitted petulantly.

"Too bad."

And they left it at that.

\----------------

At the stroke of midnight, his phone chirped.

"Darcy?" Steve grumbled, but she had been gone for hours.

Chirp. Chirp.

With a sigh, he reached out and checked his messages.

It was from Tony.

_Why so late? Is he drunk?_

It was a picture of ... Steve forced his sleepy eyes into focus ... Tony, beaten, bloody, and lashed to a metal chair.

Chirp.

Text appeared below it.

_come alone_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gives Steve a hint.

Steve was halfway into his uniform before he remembered he wasn't supposed to be walking. Oh well, Tony ranked a little higher than his feet on the list of things to worry about.

"Is there something I can help you with, sir?" JARVIS asked, bringing the lights up.

"Tony's been kidnapped, looks like he's hurt. Get the others ready, but keep them here." His instructions were to come alone, not keep a secret.

"Very good, sir. I have taken the liberty of tracing Mr. Stark's mobile and the homing device in his left first molar. But, of course, there's no guarantee that they are still with him ..."

"Send me the coordinates. It's a good start."

\--------------

Bruce was waiting in the motorpool to grill him for information.

"Where is he?"

"If he still has all his teeth, then he's in a suite at the Park Plaza."

"He's hurt?"

Steve nodded and held up his phone for Bruce to see the disturbing image and the message below it.

"Well, it looks like he was out cold when this was taken, black eye, bloody nose. Suit's not even wrinkled, they must have caught him off guard. The location suggests one of our more affluent nemeses. Maybe Doom?"

"I don't know, and I don't care."

"Don't say that, Steve. Whatever you were trying to prove in the club-"

"Wah-?"

"-whatever you're trying to compensate for, don't be stupid. You and Natasha and Maria and everyone in that building could have died, Steve."

It hurt because it was true.

"And tonight ..."

"Tony could die. Believe me, Doc, I know." There were no words to express how thoroughly Steve understood that his friend's life was on the line.

"I do. And don't forget to wash your feet when you take your boots off. You're basically healed, but better safe than infected."

"Thanks, Doc," Steve said. The 'I promise I'll be careful' went unspoken.

\-------

Steve entered the Plaza to find the lobby deserted but for a very confused young bellhop.

"Son, I need access to the Royal Suite."

"Bu-"

"Or I'll break down the door."

\--------------

Armed with only his shield and a master key, Steve took a deep breath and announced himself.

"I'm alone. I'm coming in."

And in he went.

The sitting room was dimly lit and empty, a few drops of blood on the arm of the couch the only indication that anyone had been here since the maid.

Still taking deep, purposeful breaths, mentally clinging to Bruce's advice even as fear clung to the back of his neck, Steve rounded the nearest corner an inch at a time.

And there was Tony, chained and bloody, head lolling to one side, visibly breathing and cast in heavy shadows by a single, soft lamp.

Steve's first instinct was, of course, to sprint to Tony's side, check his vitals, break his chains and call his name. But he stayed his foot when it would have rather started running, _don't be stupid_ holding him in check.

"This was too easy," he said aloud.

A low chuckle, smooth and sweet, answered him.

As if - and probably - by magic, the lamp brightened, peeling the shadows away from Loki as he reclined regally in a nearby armchair.

"You don't look like you're here for a fight," Steve played for time, knowing perfectly well that the villain's dapper suit, silk scarf and languorous posture meant little to nothing.

"No, Captain, I'm here to get you back on track. You've been far too mopey to be of any amusement lately, and you need to recapture my attention."

"Or else?"

"Or else next time you won't find him so easily ... or alive."

"What do you want me to do?" Steve glanced involuntarily at Tony.

"Break the spell. Make me laugh, mortal. Quite frankly I expected you to break it within a day. Two at the most, and I'm starting to get bored."

"Then tell me how!"

"I can't just tell you how," Loki scoffed. "Although I suppose I could be persuaded to _exchange_ the information for something ..." he kept his eyes and voice level and penetrating. "For the enjoyment of your new body, perhaps?"

The disgust was visible on Steve face, but he met Loki's stare and held fast.

"No, that wouldn't be any fun at all."

Now vaguely insulted as well as disgusted, Steve still glowered, daring Loki to provoke him to violence, to give him any excuse to call in the Hulk.

"Ah yes." Loki touched an elegant finger to his chin and bit down on an infuriating little smirk. "I'd be willing to tell you everything ... for the enjoyment of _his_ body."

"NEVER!"

"He'd have fun too, I guarantee it. I can make myself every bit the beautiful woman that you are, Captain. He wouldn't even have to know there were any strings attached. Besides, fucking strangers is practically his hobby."

"NO!" Steve was far too angry to be properly afraid of his opponent, especially not with the rest of the team on standby mere moments away. It was only Tony's vulnerability that kept him from making a move.

"So you're saying you'd rather give up your last chance at manhood than let your friend have a night of satisfying, acrobatic sex with a person he desires albeit under false pretenses?"

"Yes!"

"No wonder you're still a woman."

The lamp flickered and Loki was gone, his laughter lingering long after him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's had it up to here with Tony's shenanigans.

The next day proceeded as normally as any day could in the life of an Avenger, and Steve tried his damndest to participate.

He couldn't shake Loki's ... Loki's _what_ exactly? Instructions? Riddles? Unhinged ravings? So he tried to abide by them, getting out of bed and out of the mansion, to no avail and no deeper insight into what he should do.

He performed adequately, if stiffly, when a squad of Doombots swarmed the Baxter Building - unguarded while the Four were in Antarctica - and managed not to hurl something when Tony rigged nearby speakers to blast a certain, iconic [guitar vamp](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3OR6HkGS11c&noredirect=1) as they picked their way through the aftermath to meet the press.

He tried his level best to ignore questions from the news crew he never would have fielded as a man. 

'Were you scared?' 

'Are you out to prove something?' 

'Should female superheros be _leaning in_?'

'What do you do to stay so fit?'

Thinking _that_ was what Loki had been looking for all along - that automatic and very public condescension that Widow, Wasp, Sue Storm and Miss Marvel must have been dealing with for years - he didn't snap at any reporters, just kept his answers curt and concise and stalked away at the earliest opportunity.

But he had to take his frustration out on someone, and the first person he saw just happened to be Iron Man, detaching himself from a hushed consultation with Coulson.

"Don't ever do that again!" Steve barked, disliking the shrill edge to his voice.

"I ... It's a _classic_."

"It's by CANADIANS! And I meant last night. What the hell were you thinking, ditching Happy like that?"

"I just ..."

"Let me guess," Steve pressed on, ashamed of how good it felt to unload on the only friend who hadn't come to check on him after the club, "a gorgeous woman in a green dress with alabaster skin and long black hair bought you a drink."

"She must have been working for Loki ..."

"She _was_ Loki, you ass!"

"Hey, I'm not proud of getting kidnapped!"

"Well I wasn't proud of getting carried away from a fight in front of hundreds of people."

"Fine, I'll just let you lay there next time."

"Good!" Satisfied and saddened all at once, Steve stormed off and glared at the other Avengers - pretending they hadn't been listening to the whole thing. As he left, he threw one last shout over his shoulder. "And stop buying me stuff! It's embarrassing!"

\----------------

Steve spent the next few hours at a randomly chosen bar, itching for anyone to say the wrong thing to him.

At about 10, Natasha materialized on the stool beside him and ordered a whiskey sour.

She didn't say another word, just drank until he was ready.

"I think I might cry again."

"And you would be completely justified. Reporters are assholes. You had a rough night. Tony's been an even bigger dick than usual." She shrugged.

"Well," Steve wished he could still blame admissions like this on alcohol, "I wasn't very nice to him this afternoon."

"Oh please. You've given him the same speech a thousand times. You may be a little on edge these days, but he's the one acting _weird_."

"I can't say I blame him. He's just freaked out by me. _I'm_ freaked out by me. If I could avoid myself I would."

Tasha gave him a funny look.

"You really think he's such a bad friend that he'd let this come between you?"

"I don't know what _else_ to think ... And it's killing me. I'd feel so much better about this whole situation if he were there for me."

With a sigh, Tasha hopped off the stool and gently dragged him behind her by the wrist.

"You need to go to bed. We've got a big day tomorrow. Gotta spend lots of Tony's money on nails and hair and make-up and massages before the ball. He'll be treating all the girls."

"Don't you think that's just a little shallow?"

"Steve, they didn't have proms in the Red Room. Don't ruin this for me."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm perversely proud of my inability to beat the Bechdel test today ... :P

"So," chirped Darcy, reclining at Steve's side as a pair of young Vietnamese women patiently painted their nails, "you gonna get a boyfriend now that you're a lady or do you still like girls?"

"I'd be happy with either, really, always would have been, but I'm not really looking for _anyone_ right now." Steve sipped his mimosa with his free hand and wondered vaguely why Darcy didn't seem shocked at the casual confession.

"That's cool. Nice boots."

"Thanks, they're the ones Tony made me."

"Yeah, they're cute. He's got good taste."

\--------------

"So," purred Betty from the neighboring massage table, "what are you going to wear tonight?"

"I was told it's a strapless, empire, a-line ... but the only part of that I understood was 'strapless.' It's dark blue. You?"

"An ivory boat neck swing dress with black accessories."

"Oh." Whatever that meant.

"I was going to wear green, but Bruce doesn't like it."

"I can imagine." Before he could shake the image from his head, he pictured himself in red and gold. Maybe Tony would like that ... _maybe he'd tell me I looked nice._

But that was silly; there was no time to get a new dress.

\------------------------------

"So," began Jane across her mixed greens and pan seared Ahi tuna, "you got a date tonight?"

"Going stag." Steve picked at his fries (or _frites_ as the fancy schmancy waiter had informed him).

"Must be nice, Darcy needed a date to get an invite. Lucky for her Coulson's cellist canceled on him. And lucky I was in the room with him when she did the canceling. He was about to ask _you_ before I begged him to take Darcy."

"Was that _after_ I ... changed?"

"Does it really matter?"

Steve chuckled.

"I suppose it doesn't."

Coulson was cute and sweet and all, _but he's no ..._ Steve tried so hard not to finish that thought with _Tony_ , tried to replace it with _Thor_ or _Clint_ or even _Peggy_.

He failed.

\--------------------------

"So," said Pepper, loud enough to be heard over the drying chairs, "do you like Diana Krall?"

"I, uh, don't think I've met her."

"No, she's a jazz musician, she'll be playing tonight. You should get a kick out of her, very old school, very talented. Very committed to the fight against cancer."

"What are you wearing?" Steve wasn't entirely sure he cared, but he took a page out of Betty's book to be polite.

"Haven't decided yet. It's a fine line I have to walk on the red carpet. Can't be underdressed, but I think it's a little unseemly for a CEO to wear a full on ball gown in the middle of such a quote-unquote economic recovery ... or ever. Men have no idea what a huge statement a dress makes ... well, most men." Pepper thumbed through a magazine, mind clearly elsewhere.

"I must admit I never knew how much work would be expected of me just to maintain appearances. I mean, I'm not even _doing_ all the hard work, and it's _still_ hard work."

"Well, you're in a bad place at a bad time for that, I'm afraid. Things are different when you're a walking media circus like a superhero, when one of your girlfriends is a billionaire, you live in a mansion and go to things unironically called 'balls.' Jane doesn't wear make up in the ambulance, Darcy doesn't do her hair for her 7 a.m. classes, Betty doesn't wear stilettos in the lab, and none of us get dolled up just to meet each other for lunch. You managed to catch girls night _and_ a black tie charity function in the same few days _after_ buying a year's supply of clothes in the space of a few hours. I swear it's not always like this."

"Promises, promises."

"Who's Tony bringing?"

_Damn_. Just when Steve's mind had wandered away, it flashed right back to _him_. This was getting ridiculous.

"I couldn't say."

\----------------------

"Please," Steve interrupted Tasha before she'd even crossed his threshold, "don't say 'So.'" They were back from their jaunt around town, fresh out of the professional make-up artists' hands, and dusk was drawing near.

"Sure thing. What's wrong? Go get your dress, I'll zip you up."

"I don't know. I guess everyone's gonna look so pretty and handsome, and I'm gonna feel weird the whole night. I'm gonna have to watch what I say and answer to 'Lydia' and ..."

"And?"

Steve gave up trying to fight it.

"And Tony still hasn't spoken to me," he muttered, tossing his dress onto the bed with a little more force than necessary.

"He talked to you yesterday, almost yelled at you."

"It's different with the mask on."

"Why?"

"It just _is_."

"Did you pick your undies?"

"I figured I'd wear these." Steve shrugged.

Tasha just sighed and started opening dresser drawers.

"I mean, if I'm so mad at him and hurt by him, then why do I want to see him so bad?"

"Put these on." Tasha threw him a red lace teddy and garter set he didn't remember purchasing. "You'll thank me later." She turned away, guessing rightly that Steve would eventually give in and strip down.

"It's driving me crazy."

Tasha sighed again.

"It's obvious that you'll forgive him if he says and does the right things. You're just afraid he won't say or do those things. Haven't you ever been angry at someone you care about before?"

Steve tried to articulate that it wasn't a question of whether or not he _cared_ about Tony; it was a question of _how much_ he cared. But by the time his brain caught up with him he was zipped, properly shod in glittering silver pumps, zipping Tasha into a black column of fabric and clasping a string of freshwater pearls about her neck.

Steve slipped on his gloves and looked uncertainly at his jewelry box.

"Don't bother. You don't have anything nearly nice enough for this. You're better off with nothing at all."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony says and does the right things.

Steve was actually a little jealous when he and Tasha descended the stairs to find almost everyone assembled in the lounge, already sipping pre-dinner sherries from tiny glasses. All the _other_ girls had some kind of bling, from Tasha's gray pearls to Pepper's chunky gold everything, Jane's made-in-Asgard arm cuff, Betty's onyx pendant, and Darcy's borrowed rubies. He valued simplicity and frugality ... but he still felt left out.

"Steve," cooed Tasha as she slipped her arm through Clint's, her voice so syrupy that a bombshell was sure to drop any second, "would you be a dear and go get Tony?" (boom) "We're going to be late."

She must have heard the uncomfortable sound he made, because she shot him a glare that either meant 'shut up and trust me' or 'I'll strangle you in your sleep.'

"He's just in the library," added Clint, all too innocently.

With a grumble, Steve hitched up his skirt and trotted off.

He found Tony hunched miserably on a couch in front of the cold, dark fireplace, an empty sherry glass in hand.

"It's almost time to go," he announced, ready to turn and leave when a sudden pang of long-delayed guilt stopped him and brought him across the carpet and slowly onto the couch beside his friend.

"I'm coming." Tony didn't look up.

"I ... I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday. It's not your fault you were kidnapped. That was victim blaming, and it was very wrong of me." It had only just occurred to him that if Tony was a woman, he never would have held him accountable for his own assault.

Tony laughed half-heartedly, closely studying his shoes.

"I'm sorry, too ... for everything. I shouldn't have ignored you ... it's just that, well ... I don't know if you've noticed, but I have a problem talking to women-"

" _Bullsh-_ "

"-without hitting on them."

"Oh, yes. You do have that problem."

"And you deserve better than constant double entendres and straight up sexual harassment, however clever they may be. You're just ... I'm so worried I'm going to say the wrong thing, I thought it was better not to say anything. I'm not sorry I carried you out of the club, though. You were hurt."

"I know." Steve blushed as the first stirrings of forgiveness (which Tasha had so accurately predicted) and a familiar, amused affection blossomed in his chest. "Thank you." If he had been his normal self he would have clasped Tony in a quick hug to prove bygones were bygones, but now ... he clasped his hands in his lap and waited for Tony to just _look_ at him.

"Here, I ... thought you might like this ..." Instead of looking up, Tony fished a small velvet case out of his pocket and laid it between them on the cushions.

"Tony," Steve chided without reaching for it.

"I didn't buy it. It was my mom's ... my dad made it for her. If you don't like it, I've still got her whole jewelry box upstairs ..." he muttered, shifting nervously in his tux.

 _Well ... if he didn't_ buy _it ..._ Curious, Steve opened the box and gasped aloud at the necklace within.

"Oh my god," he breathed, embarrassed to feel tears threatening his eyeliner at the sight of Howard's craftsmanship. The pendant was shaped like an atom, with a nucleus of clustered white and blue pearls and electrons of sparkling diamond chips strung on spun silver rings. It hung on a delicate, silver double helix chain.

"It's a carbon atom," Tony explained. "I totally understand if you don't want to wear it. The atom _is_ kind of an atheist symbol and all ... I mean, I'd be a little offended if you gave me a cross ..."

"No, it's ..." Steve didn't have words to express his gratitude or to halt the tear that escaped and fell with a splash onto the case, "I would be honored to wear this."

Tony finally raised smiling brown eyes to Steve's, and for a moment it almost felt like things were back to normal.

Until Steve realized, with a blush and a pounding heart, how handsome Tony really was, even with the fading traces of a black eye. It's not that he had never noticed before - on the contrary, he noticed it often - but it had been so long since he'd seen that face and those eyes and that smile Tony saved for only a select few. He couldn't believe how much he'd missed it.

Steve lowered his gaze, breaking the eye contact he'd been wanting for so long, suddenly afraid of something he couldn't name, something that was happening deep inside him.

"I'll help you put it on."

Trembling, Steve turned, gasping again as cold metal and warm fingers ghosted across his skin. With a deep breath, covered in goosebumps, he turned back so Tony could see. He kept his eyes safely on a black bowtie and managed to not picture it undone and dangling.

"You look beautiful," Tony whispered, his throat moving as he swallowed. "You'll have to save me a dance."

"Sure." Steve felt like he was twirling already. "We should go." He had to remind himself to breathe when Tony offered him his arm.

He was so distracted by the scent of cedar cologne and Tony's warmth pressing against his side, that it took him a minute to realize why they'd come to a sudden halt just inside the lounge.

"Those bastards!" Tony cried. "They left without us!"


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, [Grapefruit Moon](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKQaSZXEK2s) isn't a Diana Krall song. I love Tom Waits, and I love Krall, and I think she could do an absolutely stunning cover of it.

"So, uh ..." Tony tried to make conversation as the Tesla whirred out of the garage. "What's new with you?"

Steve couldn't help but smile, part of him still present while most of his brain descended into chaos, his thoughts a tangled string of _but-he's-your-friend_ s, _so-handsome_ s and _I-can't-believe-this-is-happening_ s.

"Not much," he answered automtically, so busy freaking out that he forgot where he was ... and _what_ he was. "Hung out with the girls today."

"They sure are having fun, getting to give you a little taste of their world," Tony mused as he hung a left, "dressing you up like a Barbie."

"They sure are," Steve agreed, eyes locked safely on the snow-covered city rolling past. _This is ridiculous_ he told himself sternly. _You're a grown woma-OH MY GOD THIS IS INSANE!_ "What's new with you?"

"I've had a shitty week."

Steve watched Tony's reflection in the window as it changed gears. _Don't look. It'll be better if you don't look._ He pulled his white satin wrap closer about his shoulders as if it could keep him from falling apart.

"Yeah, getting kidnapped sucks," he mumbled unhelpfully.

"Y'know, when you were yelling at me the other day, I almost thought you were ... _jealous_ or something."

Steve's jaw dropped and hung there. _No I wasn't,_ he insisted. _Yes you were,_ he countered. _You still are._

"But I know you were just being protective. Forget I said anything," Tony backpedaled as gracefully as anyone could.

Without meaning to, Steve reached up and clutched the jeweled atom at his throat.

"Loki said ..." he finally squeaked, not sure where he was going with this, "he wanted to trade you for the cure."

"What would he want with _me_?"

"He ... uh ... would have told me how to fix this if I let him ... ummm ... sleep with you."

"Oh." Tony was quiet for an uncomfortably long time. "I had no idea. Thank you. I know breaking the curse is important to you."

"It wasn't a difficult choice to make," Steve sighed. "And it wouldn't _be_ a curse if society treated women with more respect. Suddenly what I'm wearing means more than what I have to say. Now all the reporters want to know is if I have a boyfriend or what I'm eating. Now getting carried away injured makes me a damsel instead of a casualty. I'm not allowed to be an infantry officer now ... I'm no longer a captain."

"I'm not saying I think you _need_ to change back ... but if you wanted me to, I'd give Loki the night of his life."

Steve knew Tony meant well, joking or not, but the sentiment angered him. Maybe it was because he thought of Tony as more than a bargaining chip. Maybe it was because he wanted to get back to normal on his own terms, without giving into a trickster's whims. Maybe it really was jealousy.

"I don't think he would have been as interested if he had your consent," he grumbled.

"No, I guess not."

Neither spoke again until the car pulled up to a well lit canopy and valets swarmed around to open doors and point out the gauntlet of the red carpet.

The press was out in force, and Steve had no desire to answer any impertinant questions. He practically hid behind Tony, who sensed his discomfort and plowed past outstretched mikes and flashing bulbs with a half smile and dismissive waves.

As the last of their party to arrive, they had no choice but to sit side by side, and they had missed the poached scallop appetizers. When the Avengers were done guffawing over their clever little joke, the food and wine dissipated any lingering tension. Steve found himself laughing and chatting and elbowing Tony when he made an off color remark. It felt like old times, only the boning of his bodice, the weight of his updo and the smooth rub of his thighs within his skirt occasionally reminded him that all was not as it should be. And there were plenty of places to politely point his gaze that didn't involve a sudden paroxysm of _feelings_.

Dinner was delicious, the speeches were short, and Diana Krall really was a marvellous performer. She even played a few tunes Steve knew by heart, giving them new, sultry meaning. But song by song, almost moment by moment, the table emptied as couples broke for the dancefloor. Eventually, it was just him and Tony once more.

Steve kept his eyes fixed on his wine, pretending to be engrossed in the music. They took turns clearing their throats.

"So ..." Tony ventured when the sad strains of a slow melody began, startling Steve from his enforced oblivion, "how about that dance?"

Steve briefly considered begging off, feigning a stomach ache or sweaty boot rash. But as much as he wanted to avoid a confrontation with his newfound attraction, he wanted to indulge it, too. He wanted an excuse to be close to Tony, to breathe him in and move in time with him, to touch him and be touched by him ...

And he didn't want to be rude ...

_Grapefruit moon, one star shining, shining down on me,_

They stepped out onto the polished parkay, and before he knew it, Steve was flush against his friend, cheek to cheek, and awash in that sweet cologne. He took a deep breath and tried not to feel so perfectly comfortable, tried not to obsess about the fingers pressing against the bare skin of his upper back, tried not to squeeze the hand in his ... but he knew he was tense, knew his breathing was ragged against Tony's jaw.

_Heard that tune, now I'm pining, honey can't you see?_

"Now you're doing it," Tony whispered as they swayed.

"Doing what?" Steve whispered back, suddenly nervous. He'd been trying _not_ to do anything all night!

_'Cause every time I hear that melody, something breaks inside,_

"You haven't even glanced at me in hours. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something?"

"No, you've been great, Tony ... I'm just ... this is all so weird."

_And the grapefruit moon, one star shinining, can't turn back the tide._

Steve could feel Tony's smile, and it sent a wave of warmth down his body.

"It _is_ weird. Sometimes I forget who you are, and when I remember ... it's a little scary, like I'm losing you, even though you're right here beside me."

Steve clutched at Tony's jacket.

"I thought I was losing you, too ... all week."

_Never had no destination, could not get across,_

"Sorry."

"I'm just glad you're with me now. I don't think I'd have the guts to dance with anyone else." Steve didn't think he'd _want_ to dance with anyone else, either.

_You became my inspiration, oh but what a cost,_

"No, I mean I'm sorry I can't pretend that nothing's changed ... I can't pretend I don't look at you differently ..."

Steve turned his face into the crook of Tony's neck, burrowing for some kind of safety.

"I look at you differently, too ... I see the whole world differently now ..." he wasn't sure if he meant since the spell or since his realization in the library, and he wasn't sure it mattered, "So I haven't been looking at all ..."

_'Cause every time I hear that melody, something breaks inside,_

"I wish I knew how to help. If I were a handsome prince or something, I'd kiss you, but-"

Steve gasped and pulled away in shock, hearing the answer to all his problems in Tony's innocent attempt at levity. It was so simple. He could have slapped himself for not thinking of it sooner.

_And the grapefruit moon, one star shining, is more than I can hide,_

"Tony, you're a genius!"

"Huh?" Tony was just as startled as Steve, flushed and confused that their dance had ended so abruptly.

"That's it! A handsome prince!"

_Now I'm smoking, cigarettes, and I strive for purity,_

It was clear that Tony wasn't understanding Steve's elation.

" _Thor_."

Now it was Tony's turn to gasp.

_And I slip, just like the stars, into obscurity,_

"Wait, Steve-"

But it was too late. He had already hitched up his skirts and skittered off into the sea of dancers. _Of course!_ It would all be over soon, no more boobs, no more shaving his legs, no more peeing sitting down, no more heels or makeup, no more uncomfortable, uncontrollable longing for Tony.

_'Cause every time I hear that melody, puts me up a tree,_

"Thor!" Steve skidded up to the brawny Avenger, pulling him and Jane into a quick huddle. "I need your help, just for a few minutes."

"Of course, my friend, how can I be of assistance?"

"Just come out to the balcony with me. Sorry, Jane."

_And the grapefruit moon, one star shining, is all that I can see._


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball ends.

Out on the balcony, in the sharp chill air and the glow of the city, Steve dashed to a secluded corner, unable to contain his excitement.

Thor followed, intrigued and amused.

"I know how to break the spell ... well, I have an idea ... well, Tony had an idea ..."

"Speak slowly, Captain."

"This may sound crazy, but I need you to kiss me. It always works in the fairy tales."

"And if it doesn't work?" Thor's smile never wavered, but he lifted an unconvinced eyebrow.

"Then no harm done." Steve tried not to be frustrated, but this could have been over with by now.

"And if it _does_ work?"

 _Oh right._ He'd have to cross the ballroom in a ripped dress and makeup. 

Steve glanced around and saw that he could easily hop to the next balcony and slip into an empty function hall.

"Then I'll wait in there until someone can bring me some clothes." Even as some of his enthusiasm for the plan wore off, he stood firm. He wanted to be his normal self again ... He wanted Tony to be _his_ normal self again.

With a shrug and a crooked grin, Thor took Steve in his arms and dipped him back.

"We may as well do it properly, then."

But as Steve looked up at his very handsome prince, at those twinkling blue eyes and that flowing golden hair, he almost choked on a throatful of second thoughts.

The near-instant change of heart baffled him, and he became so scared that he physically stopped the kiss with a hand to Thor's lips. Thor, on the other hand, didn't seem surprised at all.

 _What's the problem?_ he wondered, trembling. Thor was very attractive and a dear friend, and the kiss would be meaningless, a formality for a very good cause ... it sounded so easy only moments ago. _So why don't I want to?_

Thor righted them and promptly engulfed Steve in a huge hug.

"Don't fret, Captain, I understand. You do not wish to remain something you're not, but neither do you wish to kiss someone you do not love."

Thank God _someone_ around here understood what the hell was going on.

"You're heart is pure and true, and I am not the least offended. What's more, Jane would surely punish me if I did not discuss this with her first."

"Right." _Good point. Good excuse._ "Yeah ... run this by Jane, and maybe we should try again in the morning or something. I just got too excited ..."

"Perhaps we should. It may work; Asgardian legend, too, speaks of the power of a prince's kiss."

"Thank you, Thor." Steve leaned back and smiled sincerely through his painful confusion. This was maddening. He'd come so close, and then he'd balked because he was ... what? Picky? Prudish? Not ready to make another sudden, literally life-altering transformation? Not ready to do so in such a public place? Wishing Thor was shorter, darker and sassier? All of the above? "You're a good friend."

"I am not _entirely_ convinced it will work, though." For the first time, doubt and a saddened sympathy crept into Thor's eyes. "The kiss of a prince may be powerful ... but it can't be half as powerful as a kiss of true love."

"Huh ... I guess not."

 _True love ..._ The phrase echoed in the silence as flurries of snow began to fall. It made sense, and it had just as much chance at success as a royal smooch. But for every hope the suggestion raised, it dashed two more.

_If only someone loved me ..._

Steve gave Thor's arm a squeeze and wandered trancelike back into the ballroom.

_If only ..._

He skirted the dancefloor, catching unseeing glimpses of happy couples in love. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tony dancing with a beautiful young woman, smiling and laughing with her, unaware of Steve's return.

_If only Tony ..._

Steve had finally reached his emotional limits. From the library to the ball to the balcony he had experienced more highs and lows than he could handle. He felt himself collapsing under the weight of disappointment and sheer exhaustion. His chicken marsala curdled in his stomach. His face burned, bright with stress and shame.

Placing one foot in front of the other, eyes glazing over, heart and mind numb and blank, he found himself outside.

The few reporters who had stayed behind called out to him under the canopy, and he didn't have the energy to flee them.

"Agent Burns, would you call yourself a feminist?" he made out over the cacaphony of questions.

Without stopping or looking up, he answered with a question of his own, thinking aloud more than expecting an answer.

"Why didn't anyone ever ask Steve Rogers that?"

They didn't follow him as he struck off slowly down the sidewalk.

The thickening snow felt good on his heated skin, the slush quickly numbing his toes until they matched his mood.

He simply didn't know what to want anymore beyond a hot shower and a warm bed. It was just all so damn _complicated_.

He could no longer deny that he was in love with Tony, that it was Tony he wanted to kiss, and he couldn't write it off on his new body either; he had been careful to call his feelings 'friendship' for years now, but after a week of exile he could only use the word 'yearning.' He didn't want to continue this Agent Burns nonsense for another second, but once he changed back there would be no more dances with Tony or heirloom necklaces or being called beautiful. He really didn't want to kiss Thor, even though he knew it might be exactly what Loki was hoping for (and he _really_ didn't want Loki to get any more enjoyment out of this).

After a few blocks he began to wish he had a coat, or at least better shoes. _Fucking shoes._ Snow was gathering in his upswept hair and melting down the back of his neck. He took a shortcut down a dark alley, cutting across to another and marching sullenly till he came up against a chainlink gate that hadn't been there in the 40's. Not wanting to backtrack, he scaled it and cursed when the gauzy overlayers of his skirt caught fast. He ripped the fabric to shreds to free himself, dropped down into a snowbank and wept.

He wasn't crying for his broken heart or his frozen body or even his ruined dress. He was crying because he was just so tired and because he was sitting there in the dirty snow instead of laying in his bed and forgetting this night ever happened.

"You okay, lady?" asked a young girl passing on the street.

"I'm fine," he mumbled. And he meant it. Once the first few tears had dried, he was able to stand and continue on his sad, sorry way. Physical strife was far easier for him to conquer than his abstract worries, and it passed as quickly as it had arisen.

"You wanna take my coat? I'm almost home," the girl offered. "You can bring it back to me tomorrow. I just live over there." She couldn't have been more than fifteen, her dark skin unblemished and makeup free, her hair in carefully gelled ringlets, her frame slight.

"It's okay. I kind of feel like suffering at the moment."

"Ain't you Captain America?"

He turned and nodded, embarrassingly happy just to be recognized (and not referred to as the 'new' Captain America or 'Miss' America as some papers had taken to calling him).

The girl grinned hugely and unabashedly, and Steve couldn't help but smile back at her.

"That's so cool. I'm so glad there's another lady Avenger now. I mean, the old Cap was super hot and all, but there need to be more girls out there kickin' ass. It really means a lot to me to see you doin' it."

"Thank you. It really means a lot to me to hear you say that."

"Here, take it." The girl pulled off her coat, and Steve could no longer refuse. "Just ask for Tina when you come back."

"Thank you, Tina." It was a little small, but warm and soft. "I'll return it as soon as I can."

Buoyed by the encounter, Steve barely registered the rest of the long walk home. He had no idea what time it was when he scrubbed his face clean and tore the bobby pins from his hair. He peeled off his sopping gown and threw a robe over his tawdry lingerie.

Before he got too comfortable or moved the kitten off his pillow, though, Steve thought he ought to return the atom, perhaps just leaving it outside Tony's room. But when he opened his door, there was Tony, one arm raised to knock and the other full of a coat and the boots he'd made.

"Tony!"

"Hi, I tried to call, but you left your purse at the party ... I came home for your stuff and drove around looking for you. JARVIS called me when you got in ... I was just bringing these back."

"Thank you." Steve took the clothing and set it aside on the dresser.

Tony's eyes were bright with concern, his bowtie and several buttons undone, and BAM it was back: all of it, the questions, the knot in his stomach, the catch in his throat, the fire in his heart. It was as if they'd never left.

Hands shaking, he unclasped the atom and held it out.

Tony pushed it away, looking almost as distressed as Steve felt.

"Keep it."

Steve couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe.

"I was just kidding back there, I didn't actually mean for you to kiss him ... Sorry it didn't work."

"I couldn't do it," he admitted, clamping down on a shudder, the sudden heat between his legs telling him it was time to politely send his guest away.

"Why not?"

 _Because I don't know what I want anymore!_ he mind screamed at the top of its lungs. _Because I'm a whole new kind of role model now! Because I can't seem to let go of this absurd fantasy that you like me this way even though you've been nothing but creeped out! Because if you_ do _like me this way then the_ last _thing I want to do is break the spell! Because Thor might not even be the one capable of breaking it!_

"... Steve?"

"Because I love you!" he cried, wincing when the words reached his ears. The necklace slipped through his fingers, falling silently to the carpet.

He thought he might faint. He thought his heart might stop. He thought his life was over. 

But then Tony's mouth was on his, hot and soft, and he wasn't thinking anymore.

Their arms flew around each other, bodies pressing hard together, and Steve parted his lips to let the kiss grow deeper than any he'd ever had before. He squirmed, muscles jumping inside him, hips twisting and thighs clenching with a mind of their own.

Somewhere in the distance the door slammed, then strong hands urged him to wrap his legs around Tony's waist. He was being carried again but he didn't care. How could he care when it meant he could grind so easily against Tony's cock, already hard and eager?

The bed dipped beneath his back. 

There was no time to be disappointed that he hadn't yet changed back, not when he was so very glad to be a woman. He whimpered when Tony pulled away to gaze down at him.

"Easy ..." Tony fought for breath. "I want to remember this."

"You'll remember it." Steve silently sang Natasha's praises as he parted his robe to reveal his bright red bustier and watched Tony's eyes go _wide_.

He reached up and, without asking, ripped open Tony's shirt and stroked the skin around the arc reactor. Caution was for people who didn't have years to make up for.

Tony didn't ask permission either, tearing through lace and elastic until Steve's undies were halfway across the room. He lifted Steve's hips easily, positioning him against the edge of the bed ... then he fell to his knees.

Steve couldn't watch, screwing his eyes shut and groaning as Tony's tongue swept across him, slipped inside him. It was far too much and not nearly enough all at once, and it went on and on and on. Then Tony's fingers replaced his tongue, delving and stretching, pressing in places Steve didn't know he'd had. Tony's mouth found a new angle, and Steve nearly shot off the bed.

"Christ, what are you ... Oh God!" He was coming too soon, something too large for his body to contain rolling through him from Tony's mouth to the tips of his fingers and toes.

Tony retreated a few inches, but his fingers drove ever deeper, slicking their way with saliva and Steve's own essence.

They stung a bit, but the pain was nothing in the face of his orgasm. They reached, searching and scissoring against writhing muscle until they found a spot that set Steve screaming again.

Time slowed to a crawl, each breath lasting an age, the dim room blurring as Steve returned to earth.

Tony stood again as soon as he saw that he had Steve's attention, shucking his clothes with calm purpose, casually wiping his lips and beard on his shirt before discarding it.

"Please ..." Though the words wouldn't come, Steve's hands knew what to ask, rubbing firmly against smooth skin and rough hair, skating down to clutch greedily at Tony's hardness. He measured it's girth, weighed the sac beneath and delighted in the guttural groan that followed. He pulled Tony down by the cock until it was right where he wanted it and nodded his enthusiastic consent.

They went quiet, eyes meeting as Tony slid inward, gasping as their hips met. This, too, stung a bit, but Steve had been prepared well, and the pleasure was more excruciating than any pain.

Tony kissed him - it tasted strange - rolling his body down into Steve's, one hand grasping at a lacy breast with gentle, rhythmic pressure.

_This is crazy._

Steve wrapped his arms around Tony's shoulders, so much bigger now that he was so much smaller.

_I never knew ..._

The bed creaked.

_No one told me ..._

He came again, Tony swallowing his wordless cries.

_No one told me it could be this good._

Tony was coming, too, and Steve could _feel_ it, the searing heat of it.

_Crazy._

It didn't seem so crazy, though, to smile at Tony afterward, to drag him into the bathroom to rinse off, or to climb naked under the covers with him. It was natural. 

It felt right.

Tony switched off the lamp, leaving the arc reactor to light the room alone.

"Is this gonna bother you? I can cover it up."

"Don't you dare."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball itches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is taking so long. Got a lot going on at work, and I can't seem to come up with an ending that isn't boring, so I figured I'd just post the bit that I'm happy with.

Steve woke slowly, long after sunrise.

The first thing he noticed was that he was alone. The atom, laid out on the other pillow, was the only sign that Tony had ever been there.

The next thing he noticed was that his balls itched.

"Oh shit!" He leapt up, scaring away the cat, tossing aside the sheets to pace naked past the mirror. "You've got to be kidding me!"

When did this happen? Had Tony seen him like this? What finally broke the spell? Why did it have to be _now_?

With a growl he tore an outfit from the men's department of his closet and threw it on. Shoes were harder to come by, but he eventually dug a pair of sneakers from beneath a pile of heels he'd never even tried on.

He ran full tilt up the stairs to the roof and sloshed through a few inches of snow.

"Loki!" he shouted into the cold blue sky. "Loki, please!"

After several fruitless minutes of screaming into the wind, cold and confused, he gave up and fell to his knees.

"Loki, I need you," he whispered to the rooftop.

When he raised his eyes again, there was the trickster himself, bundled up in a black wool coat and a hand-knit green scarf.

"What?" he demanded petulantly, a gloved fist on his hip.

"Change me back," Steve commanded without a hint of hesitation. "Please," he added through his teeth.

"You mortals never cease to surprise me. Why the change of heart, Captain?"

"Love."

"You mean to tell me you _love_ that insufferable Stark?" Loki threw his head back and laughed out loud.

"I thought you knew," Steve said once the chuckles trailed off.

"I wish I had."

"Then what was all that about expecting me to break the spell in a couple days?"

Loki laughed again, twisting the knife.

"I expected you to act quickly because I gave you the body of an adult and the brain of a horny fifteen-year-old. I didn't care _who_ you fucked to break it."

Steve stood slowly, with what little dignity remained to him, reining in his embarrassment, his disappointment ...

"If you weren't such a slut you probably could have squeezed a few dates out of him first."

... his fist.

"I am sorry, Captain. I meant only to amuse myself with your culture's tortured views on gender and sexuality, not to toy with your heart." It almost sounded like Loki was being sincere.

"Then please-"

"No. Don't be daft. It's not fun anymore. It stopped being fun days ago. It's even _less_ fun now that I know I was inadvertently helping you get something you wanted. And besides, you shouldn't change yourself so drastically for anyone, even if he is smart, rich, and handsome. You may love him very much - as foolish as you may be for it - but do you want him to love you back or to love your body?"

Steve couldn't really argue with that. 

The world really had gone mad: Loki was dispensing wisdom ... and he was heeding it.

"Don't despair Captain ... I'm sure Stark's not your last chance at happiness."

"Could you at least get rid of my manicure for me?" May as well get _something_ out of this.

"With pleasure. Acrylics are so tacky." With a wave of Loki's hand it was done, Steve's fingers freed from their artificial blue tips, the last vestiges of the past week gone forever, along with all hope.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing a true BFF can't handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bam. Done. What a wild ride.
> 
> I must confess that I took so long because I kept wanting to write more Steve and Loki dialogue. But I've decided to get that out of my system with a new fic, freeing me to get off my ass and wrap this thing up as adorably as possible.

Steve trudged, shivering in his wet shoes, downstairs to the kitchen. He peeked first, entering only when he saw Tasha making coffee for one.

He meant to say 'good morning,' but she beat him to it, mind still sharp behind hungover eyes.

"Did you do something different with your hair?"

"My life is a disaster."

"Don't be so dramatic." She untied her robe and sat, attentive, at the island. "Make me breakfast and tell me all about it. Eggs and bacon."

Steve set to, grateful to have a sympathetic ear and something to busy his hands.

"So, I guess I'm in love with Tony." 

He paused to let her gasp ... but all she did was reach for the sugar bowl. 

"And ... we ... spent the night together ... last night," he continued only after finding a good hiding place in the fridge. He came back up with everything he needed, pausing again (surely she'd be shocked by _that_ ). But she showed no sign of either surprise or concern.

"And now I'm ... like this. And I don't know if he knows yet. He was gone when I woke up."

"Chill, bitch, I've got this. But make me breakfast first."

Eggs, toast and bacon later, they huddled over her phone.

"What's your plan?"

"I'm gonna tell him." She was already typing 'fyi steve's a dude again.'

"What?"

**Send**

He stared, speechless, as she sat back and smiled at him.

"And now we wait."

Did she even know she had just given him a heart attack?

Chirp.

_i know_

_and ...?_ she typed back.

_just put him on the phone pls_

She dialed.

Steve's hand was numb when it took the phone. He couldn't remember if he'd breathed since Tasha sent that first message. How long had it been?

"Steve?"

"Hi."

"Look, about last night ... I'm sorry I jumped you like that, we should have talked about _stuff_ before we did any ... uh ... _stuff_."

"I ..."

"Just listen. I've only got a minute before the next meeting. I just want you to know that I went into this fully expecting you'd eventually change back, but I don't know the proper etiquette for fucking a teammate who turns into a dude the next morning. I would totally understand if you're magically attracted to ladies exclusively, and I hope you'd understand the same of me."

"I ..."

"Cool, I'll be home in a few hours, I'll bring pizza, we'll talk. But, before I go, there's something I forgot to tell you last night ... I love you, too."

Click.

"I ..."

"All better?"

Steve didn't know what to say. He needed to lie down. He needed a stiff drink. He needed to cry, but his once-again-adult-brain kept him in check.

"I call dibs on your Ferragamos."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue:  
Steve brings a bunch of jewelry and clothes, etc., to Tina along with her coat. Tina grows up to be an Avenger, and Steve uses his white-male-superhero-privilege only for good.

**Author's Note:**

> The end.


End file.
